Changing the Ballgame
by LightShiner14
Summary: "When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn." -Harriet Beecher Stowe
1. Dusty

I can't believe it was a full two years ago since I have written anything for this fandom. It kind of blows my mind, but this thing called life, well it keeps happening. And I just realized I'm 19 and only a ½ year away from being a registered nurse. Like, what?! It seems like yesterday, yet forever ago, that little 13 year old me was attempting to write fan fiction. I shake my head thinking back on some of my thought processes. Not to mention how stereotypical I was, thinking I knew everything. Luckily, there is always room for improvement!

I don't own any of the familiar characters and as a college senior who is paying for her own degree, I'm not worth much anyway *insert laughing that morphs into crying* don't sue me. Hope everyone enjoys this little story! This will be multi parted. I have several chapters written and I hope to complete this story over winter break.

—

~1~Dusty~1~

"Blast all this bloody dust!" Newkirk growled stomping his boots and brushing the blasted stuff off his shirt, attempting to at least. It was impossible to get rid of it entirely.

"Hey, at least it's not so cold anymore!" Carter chuckled, the sunnier of the two and a glass half full kind of guy retorted. His words were accompanied by taking off his hat and sweeping the back of his hand over the top of it joining his counterpart in the futile attempt to rid himself of the pesky dust.

"Must you always be so bloody cheery? There's a war on, you know," The English corporal continued to grumble as he decided to peel off his shirt entirely and attempt to shake it out.

"Well the way I see it is-" Carter started to explain himself but was cut off by the door to the barrack opening more dust swirling in in the brief seconds the door remained ajar as the Colonel walked in. No one dared complain about the extra dust that had been ushered in because frankly there was no time to as the leader of the rag tag group decided to address them.

"Alright. Which one of you boneheads snuck out last night?!" Colonel Hogan looked more upset than he had since he'd been tricked by a fräuline at the hofbräu who was actually a Herr.

"Don't look at me Guvna!" Newkirk scoffed as Hogan's gaze rested on him.

"Then who in the hell did?" Hogan continued his tirade. His crew knew someone had done something major wrong because the Colonel rarely yelled at them like this. Sure they got dressed down occasionally, but the fury burning in the man's brown eyes made them glad they were generally on the same side of the war.

"What happened Colonel?" Kinch inquired his eyebrows furrowed. From the looks the men were exchanging, no one in the barrack had done anything remotely close to leaving camp last night.

Taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose, Hogan tried to reign in his anger. He wasn't going to get anywhere with continuing on this vein. He knew his guys, and honey was always preferable to vinegar when dealing with them. "Klink kindly informed me this morning that a British prisoner was spotted stealing chickens. On a farm, 2 kilometers outside of camp last night,"

"Colonel Hogan Sir, I'm not trying to be disrespectful or anything, but I can't even see my fingers in all this dust…" Carter trailed off as he felt more than saw all the eyes focused on him. His cheeks reddened and he twisted his hat in his hands.

"Please continue Carter," The Colonel urged him.

Carter cleared his throat and plugged back in, his hat being twisted even more. "Well, you see, that, if uh, someone saw someone, you know, that far away,"

"It'd be a bloody miracle," Newkirk finished for his comrade.

"Yeah, exactly!" Carter's face started to revert to its normal hue as he no longer felt everyone's gaze to be trained on him.

"The kid can be a ruddy genius," Newkirk was only being partially sarcastic.

"Hey, I resent that!" Carter was now completely distracted from issue at hand.

"Resent what?" Newkirk snickered and slipped his shirt back on realizing that it had been off.

"I'm not a kid you know. Boy, no kid that I know could make up all the stuff I do around here. Not to mention-" The disgruntled sergeant was cut off from his rant by a whistle coming from their CO.

"Gentlemen, please stop. So even if the Krauts are full of it, which they very well could be. That doesn't change the fact that they say they saw someone,"

"So what?" LeBeau interjected. "So what if the dirty bosche say they saw something?"

"We'll have the Gestapo in here like that," Hogan snapped his fingers.

"So? We've taken them on many times," Carter still failed to see the point.

"That may be true Andrew, but what about that mission we have to pull tonight?" Newkirk asked the issue at hand finally dawning on him.

"Bingo!" Hogan exclaimed crossing his arms starting to pace. "If Hochstetter decides to poke his friendly face around here then we are going to need an entirely new plan and this one has been in the works what two weeks?"

"Three," Kinch interjected.

"Right, three weeks of our best planning and it's all gone," Hogan shook his head and then rubbed his right temple feeling a leak in the underground sized headache coming on.

"And if we miss this opportunity the next new moon isn't for another month and we miss our chance at a perfect night to pull this off," Kinch sighed sitting down on the table in the middle of the barrack.

"Not to mention missing our chance entirely," Newkirk grumbled.

"Changing the date is not an option," Hogan cut them short.

"But Colonel, the plan is for Klink and Stalag 13 boshe," LeBeau needlessly reminded the motley crew.

"We don't need to start from scratch guys, we can just add in a few extra bits here and there to make it Gestapo level, because it's a good plan," Carter piped in again. He hadn't made Sargent for no reason. Sure he was awkward, pretty nieve at times, and could act like a child, but he wasn't stupid.

"I believe, Carter, you actually got something there mate!" Newkirk clapped the other man's back.

The senior officer of the prisoners of war smirked the trademark smirk of his that was especially prominent when he had just had an epiphany. "I know just how to do this,"

"Never doubted it for a second guvna," Newkirk had a trademark smirk of his own resting on his face.


	2. Count on Klink

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the familiar characters.

~2~Count on Klink~2~

"Ahh! Major Hochstetter, what a pleasure is to see you!" Klink babbled getting up from his seat behind his desk and holding out his hand to the Major for a handshake.

Hochstetter settled for a scowl as he made the informal gesture to heil Hitler instead of accepting the gesture of the addlebrained colonel in front of him. "Klink, I assure you that you will not think of my visit in such a way when I am through with this camp,"

"But of course Herr Major, how can I help you?" Klink amended failing to hide the nervousness behind his laugh.

"General Burkhalter, of course, informed you of the prisoner that was spotted last night,"

"Of course! But I assure you, no prisoner has ever successfully escaped Stalag 13!" Klink crowed proudly.

"Save you boot licking for the Luftwaffe," Hochstetter growled. He grew tired of Klink before he even entered the gates of the camp. He did not believe in any higher power than the Furrer but he called on the God of his grandparents when he had to confront the balding numbskull.

"Yes, save my boot licking for the Luftwaffe…" the colonel frowned slumping back into his chair dejected. The Gestapo always made him extremely anxious. Where was Hogan when he could be of use?

"The farmers were Gestapo informants who have assumed the identities of two known underground agents that were shot three nights ago,"

"The underground?" Klink gasped. "This close to camp?"

"A coincident? I think not! There is something about this camp komandant," The black-clad man growled. He had cleared Klink of active participation long ago because no one was that good of an actor and the underground activity in this area was the work of an absolute genius. Something that Klink obviously was not.

"I have always been loyal Herr Major," Klink instantly became defensive, a facade to hide his anxiety behind.

"Of that, I am certain colonel. Fortunately for the allies of course,"

Klink's face fell further and decided wisely to just keep his mouth shut.

"Now I am going to search this camp from top to bottom and if one single speck of dust is out of place, you will be shot!" Hochstetter left the office without any further words.  
_

"He gets nastier each time he comes," Carter pulled the plug to the coffee pot.

"You can say that again mate," Newkirk stood up from the table he had been perched on. The English corporal took some deep breaths trying to mask how upset he was at the news of Bearskin being killed. The couple had been so nice the few times he had met with them. They reminded him of doting grandparents and it angered him that the Gestapo had wiped out one of the few rays of sunshine left in the godforsaken world.

"Is there anything that would get our beloved kommandant shot going on?" Colonel Hogan rubbed his chin doing his best to wrack his brain.

"Johnson in barrack 8 has that still, but he's normally pretty good at keeping that down in the tunnels when it's assembled and operational," Kinch voiced.

"He just sent out word that a batch would be ready tomorrow at 1400, so it's definitely not a concern at the moment," Newkirk contributed.

"Everyone else involved in anything knows to be ready for any kind of inspection at any time, I just ran a mock inspection a week ago remember?" Carter tried to put everyone at ease.

"True. That makes me feel better. We can't go losing Klink this late in the game. It would be impossible to train a new kraut as well as we have him trained," Hogan started to pace once again. It helped him think.

"Colonel, what's got you so worried? You know we always pass inspection," Kinch tried to placate his commanding officer.

"What's got me worried is that Bearskin was shot and we didn't know about it," Colonel Hogan informed his men.

"You did tell the underground to keep unnecessary communication to a minimum," Carter pointed out.

"Carter, don't you bloody think that someone being shot is important?" Newkirk rolled his eyes.

"Well, I was just saying!" Carter raised his voice defensively.

"Pipe down, both of you. We weren't notified because no one else knows either," Colonel Hogan said confidently.

"Hey Colonel Hogan, Major Hochstetter, and his goons are on their way over here," Corporal Carroll one of the other men assigned to Barrack 2 informed Hogan, Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau through the closed door.

"Showtime," Hogan said in his sing-song voice zipping up his bomber jacket a few more inches and ushering his men into the main area of the barrack to set up a pseudo scene. Newkirk quickly joined in an already established game of gin. Carter took to reading a magazine in his bunk. LeBeau started a pot of coffee. Kinch picked up a book from his footlocker and perched himself on the edge of his bunk. Hogan took his place hovering behind Newkirk pretending to watch the game.

Not five seconds after the stage was set, the Gestapo burst into the barrack.

"Whatever happened to knocking?" Newkirk quip sarcastically looking up from his cards.

"Tear this place apart!" Hochstetter bellowed ignoring Newkirk. "And all of you outside in formation and you will be strip searched!"

"Major Hochstetter, I have to protest. That is a direct violation of the Geneva Convention!" Hogan was genuinely shocked. As were the rest of the men that started to loudly protest. Sure the Major was a thorn in their side, but this. He had never given such an order before. Sure they had been frisked and even searched on occasion, but never anything like this!

"Silence! Next man to protest will be shot 'trying to escape.' Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Colonel Hogan muttered not knowing what else he could do at this point.

"Who knew the ruddy kraut was a queer," Hogan heard Newkirk mutter as they walked out of the building.

Once the search began, none of the men were allowed to reclothe and Hochstetter made them stand in formation with one of his goons wielding a machine gun trained on them. Each barrack was sentenced to the same fate as he made his way through the camp.

Hogan felt so useless and like a failure to his men. By the time the Gestapo had made it to barrack 8, they had been standing in formation closing in on two hours. Just when Hogan didn't think it could get any worse, a staff car came rolling into camp. The small mercy was that the guard didn't seem to mind that the men had put their hands to use to cover their privates once the Major had searched them.

The men watched as General Burkhalter exited his staff car and was greeted by a pale looking Klink.

"Korporal, warum haben diese Männer ihre Uniformen nicht?" (Corporal, why don't these men have their uniforms?) The General bellowed. He wasn't oblivious to this side of the Gestapo. More like he liked to ignore this side of the Gestapo and had repressed certain things he had learned of.

"Der Major ordnete es," (The Major ordered it) The guard grunted. He may only be a corporal, but he was told that he would suffer consequences if he were to be thwarted by anyone of any rank in the Wehrmacht of Luftwaffe.

"Ich möchte, dass sie so schnell wie möglich gekleidet werden!" (I want them dressed as soon as possible!) The General ordered.

"Herr General, das sind nicht meine Aufträge," (these are not my orders) The Gestapo corporal stood his ground not taking his eyes or gun off of the prisoners.

"Aber er ist ein General. Hochstetter ist nur ein Major!" (He is a General. Hochstetter is only a Major!) Klink gasped dumbfounded. He had thought that calling the General would stop this madness!

Burkhalter sent a look to Klink that translated to 'you're not helping.'

"Klink. Give your guard an order in the guard tower to shoot this man and not to miss," Burkhalter ordered uttering the first words of English since he arrived knowing the young Gestapo soldier would likely not understand.

"But Herr General!" Klink had never ordered someone killed. 60 days in the cooler, yes. No privileges, all the time. Reduced electricity, eliminated hot water, decreased rations, revoked passes, confiscated Jimmy Dorsey records, given extra duty, or any number of other punishments, but never death! Especially not of another German!

"Take me to the radio and I will give the order myself! No one defies my authority!"

The next thing anyone on the compound knew the corporal was lying dead on the ground and the other Gestapo guards had their guns trained on the guard tower and the kommandantur. The men from all the barracks took the distraction to regain their dignity and were back in their uniforms in record time.

"Who knew any of our guards could actually shoot," Newkirk muttered what everyone had been thinking.


	3. What Goes Up, Must Come Down

A belated happy holidays to everyone and warm wishes for the new year! Happy 2019!

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of the canon characters, just grateful that I can borrow them!

~3~What Goes Up, Must Come Down~3~

To say that Major Hochstetter was pissed off was the understatement of the war.

"Heads will Roll!" The irate Major growled as he paced in Klink's office. Burkhalter had called fellow Wehrmacht General Bruner and Hochstetter had called General Feldkamp to come in and help sort the mess out. A gestapo man had been shot, therefore, chaos ensued. In the meantime, all prisoners had been confined to barracks and everyone from barracks 1-8 bide their time putting the place they had come to refer to as home back into order. The men in barrack 2 were no exception. But they of course had five men listening into the pow wow in Klink's office.

"Major Hochstetter, on whose authority did you act today?" General Bruner asked maintaining a facade of clam from his seat. He grew weary of the Gestapo and their methods. More and more of his fellow generals were falling at their hands. Here was his chance to get back at them, no matter how little would actually be accomplished.

"I do not need to act on anyone's authority. The men here are under suspicion as saboteurs!" The major defended himself passionately and fully convicted that he was in the right. He wasn't scared of the Wehrmacht. Not in the slightest. They posed no threat to him.

"The entire camp?" Bruner raised an eyebrow. He'd believe that when hell froze over.

"Yes Major, the entire camp? I find this very hard to believe," General Feldkamp agreed. He had had his own suspicions over the years about the inhabitants of this stalag, but what his subordinate had done today was going to get them all in trouble with the Red Cross if anyone talked. Which the general was 120% sure they would. It wasn't like they could silence entire camp. Well they could, but, they could. But was it worth the cover up? Probably. He could hold the ranking officer hostage so they didn't talk…that was a great idea! He was brought out of his thoughts my his subordinates explanation.

"We captured, tortured, then shot a couple who went by the code name Bearskin. They told us nothing, but their farm was 2 kilometers from here. When the home was searched, we found information that linked them with an operative that we know to be the leader of the underground in this area named Papa Bear," Hochstetter informed the other men.

"I fail to see why that gave you cause to come into this camp and do as you did!" Burkhalter stood up slamming his hand on the desk. The part that infuriated him the most was that he hadn't been notified of the raid on the underground operatives. He prided himself for being in the know of all activity in the area under his jurisdiction.

"Yes! I fail to see it too!" Klink shouted still feeling more powerless than usual. First the Gestapo burst into his camp with accusations, then they tore the camp apart completely humiliating his prisoners, and then more accusations!

"Thank you Klink," General Burkhalter quipt sarcastically.

"This camp houses Papa Bear," Hochstetter announced confidently.

"Impossible!" Klink slammed his hand on his desk. There he went again with the accusations!

"For once I agree with Klink," Burkhalter looked horrified by the notion. Papa Bear his ass. Sure the senior officer was quite devious and a schemer, but there was absolutely no way that he was leading the underground!

"I think Major you are going to need to give me evidence by sunset or you will not like the consequences," Feldkamp growled. As much as he wanted to just level the camp, he would save that for another day. No man would stand a chance against his Major's rage today. Especially not an American. The pigs were too soft.

"I will have your evidence," The man sneered at the non Gestapo officers in the room.

"Without stripping prisoners!" General Feldkamp gave his man a sneer that put the Major's own to shame. If the prisoners were underground, they would find a way to make the Gestapo pay for the humiliation of the morning. Though loath he was to admit it, the underground in this area scared him. Just a little.

"May I question the man I believe to be at the bottom of this General?" Major Hochstetter asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. He knew he needed to suck up to his superior for the few hours it took to get evidence on Hogan. Then he could bathe in glory.

"Only if the kommandant is present," Burkhalter insisted. He knew Klink had a very thin backbone, therefore he'd allow Hochstetter to extract much information from Hogan. If there was anything to extract that is, but at the same time would not allow it to get too far out of hand.

"But of course," Hochstetter's teeth were clenched. He hated taking orders from the Wehrmacht. Maybe more so than he hated Hogan.

"Where is Sergeant Schultz Klink?" Burkhalter questioned just realizing the bulky guard was absent in all this when he was about to call the Sergeant to retrieve the prisoner.

"He left two days ago on a three day pass to visit his family," Klink informed the room.

"Then call someone to retrieve Major Hochstetter's man,"

"Ja, Herr General!" He buzzed the fill in for his also absent secretary.

A corporal opened the door.

"You called Herr Colonel?" The man inquired feeling a bit anxious with all the Generals in the room and Gestapo on the premise.

"Ja, corporal Langenscheidt, I need you to retrieve the prisoner the Major wishes to question," Klink clasped his hands together. "And which prisoner might you want Herr Major?"

"Hogan, you dummkopf! Who else could it be?"

"Jawohl Herr Major," The corporal saluted before going off to retrieve the American Colonel.

—

"Colonel this isn't good," Carter stated the obvious.

"No kidding. I'm pretty sure he doesn't have in mind discussing things civilly over a cup of coffee," The Colonel chuckled dryly.

"You got a plan Colonel?" Kinch asked knowing Hogan well enough to know the man always was two steps ahead of the krauts. He also knew that was why this whole Bearskin thing was eating him up inside. He thought he should have known so he could stop it.

Of course he had a plan. He'd run this plan through his head every night and every day for the past several years. He was just shocked it had taken this long for it to be needed. It took but seconds to adjust it to what they were dealing with. "Yeah, Newkirk. Once Langenscheidt gets me into the Kommandantur, I want you to go out through the tunnel behind camp. That should be the least guarded. I want you to take out the two Gestapo posing as Bearskin. And Newkirk, keep it short and sweet. I want you back here as soon as humanly possible,"

"Colonel, you can count on me," Newkirk saluted.

"LeBeau, you and Carter make sure all the evacuation protocols are in place and activate them if I die," He held up a hand to silence the protests that had barely touched his crew's lips. "I don't plan on kicking the bucket today. But I also don't plan on telling Hochstetter anything either. Hopefully Klink will stop anything from going too far."

The men nodded their understanding. "We'll make it through this Colonel, we always do." Carter replied. He didn't know what he'd do if they lost the Colonel.

"Thanks Carter. Kinch, I want you monitoring communication in and out of camp. If on the off chance I do talk, I want you to silence him for me,"

"Course Colonel," Kinch nodded silently praying that no one except Newkirk would have to follow out the extent of their orders.

"And I want you to execute the plan for tonight. If you had to evacuate the camp, stay behind with one of our contacts and just take the escape route out of Germany after the job is done,"

"Of course Colonel. We wouldn't have it any other way," Carter assured him.

Langenscheidt decided to barge in at that moment.

"Impeccable timing," Hogan teased the corporal who looked a bit taken aback that he'd been expected. "Take it easy," He nodded at each one of his men and shook their hands. That was as much of a goodbye he could muster without getting emotional on them. It looked like his goose was finally cooked.


	4. Gone Hunting

So this chapter contains most of the reason why this story is rated T. This was probably one of the hardest chapters I've written. Funny story though, it took me accidentally falling down my wooden stairs and actually passing out for whatever odd reason to figure out bits and pieces of this chapter. I really hope I was able to do it justice.

*Disclaimer* I don't own anything Hogan's Heroes!

~4~Gone Hunting~4~

"Papa Bear calling Mama Bear, Papa Bear calling Mama Bear, come in Mama Bear, do you read me?" Kinch called over the radio.

"We read you Papa Bear, go ahead," The man with a British accent on the other end replied.

"Bearskin was compromised, Papa Bear Sr. in danger of being compromised, ordered to enact extraction protocol if truly compromised. Request assistance," Kinch reported trying to keep it simple and detached despite this being his worst nightmare.

"Request granted. We hope this is not necessary though ol' boy," Was the reply.

"Same here Mama Bear. We'll keep you posted,"

"Right. Good luck Papa Bear," The man in London signed off and whispered a prayer that today would end without bloodshed for the men in Stalag 13. They deserved that much with all they were doing for the war effort.

-HHHHHH-

Newkirk donned a Gestapo uniform. He was not going out in broad daylight in nothing less. He momentarily considered wearing the Abwehr uniform, but he decided that would not be necessary. He wanted to blend in, not make anyone more jumpy and trigger happy than they already were. If this war, and life in general actually, had taught him anything, it was that sometimes the most obvious plans kept you alive another day longer. Besides, with all the Gestapo already crawling around the area, who would stop to think twice about seeing another. It was better than camouflage. He grabbed his flawless, if he did say so himself, documentation papers, firearms, some money, and personal effects and took out through the back exit as the Colonel had instructed him.

Newkirk had made it half a kilometer before he even ran into any patrols, the Colonel had been right about the back of the camp not being well guarded. When wasn't the Colonel right though. The Colonel wasn't revered as a military genius for nothing, Newkirk thought proudly. Beside the fact, that the krauts were growing more and more predictable, it would have been amusing under different circumstances. But today was no laughing matter.

"Halt!" came the order from the patrol comprised of 2 corporals and a private.

Newkirk knew he would have no problems getting past them with his guise as a sergeant. He swiftly handed over his papers.

"Was ist dein Zweck?" (What is your purpose?) One of the corporal's demanded.

"Der Major schickte mich, um unsere Spione auf der Hof zu überprüfen. Ihre Loyalität kommt in Frage," (The major sent me to check on our spies on the farm. Their loyalty is in question,) Newkirk replied with the flawless German he had acquired in his years at Stalag 13.

"Alles ist in Ordnung. Heil Hitler!" (All is in order.) They saluted before taking off on their way.

Newkirk continued on his way not thinking twice about anything. He had been on more dangerous missions way too often. Besides the worst part of his mission was still to come. No matter how mad he was to have lost Bearskin and no matter how much he was pissed off at the Gestapo for what they were up to once again, straight up killing people was never his favorite job to do in this war. Unfortunately, this was not the first such mission he'd been on. Once making it to the farm house without coming upon another patrol, Newkirk felt like he was done with all the challenges this mission had to throw at him. This was the easy part, and that's why he deemed it the worst.

He knocked on the door roughly with the butt of his rifle. Have to get this over with sometime, and the Colonel did say not to take more time than absolutely necessary.

"Hallo Sargent!" A man greeted with a smile that Newkirk recognised as one that could only grace the face of one loyal to the Furrer. No one was happy to see Gestapo. Not even other Gestapo for, as Carter would say, 'crying out loud.'

Without a second thought he shot the man dead with his pistol. Only way to do these things was fast. Just rip it off like a bandage. "That's for the kindly old man who's place you took and for his grandchildren who will mourn his loss," Newkirk growled and stepped over the body. He really didn't feel as bad as he knew he should for the now dead man, he'd known Bearskin and their loss would be mourned by many. Newkirk continued on and went to search for the woman. He wasn't disappointed. A portly woman came rushing out of the kitchen.

"Was machst du?" (What are you doing?) The woman gasped at the pistol that was trained on her.

"Du bist nicht Frau Schäfer," (You are not Mrs. Schäfer,) Newkirk growled at her. The kindly Frau Schäfer had been extremely kind to him and all the fliers she had helped over the years. He was actually slightly glad he would be the one to avenge her. He knew Frau Schäfer had known what could happen to her when she got involved in the underground. But that didn't mean that her loss wasn't any less tragic. She didn't deserve to die.

"Wer bist du?" (Who are you?) The woman gasped, she was completely loyal and she thought all the Gestapo would know of their place as spies. But she now guessed that was a false assumption.

"A friend of Frau Schäfer," The Englander told the woman in his strongest Cockney accent and pulled the trigger.

-HHHHHH-

Meanwhile back at the Stalag, Carter and Lebeau were placing dynamite in the tunnels, gathering what they would need to take to London with them, and informing every barrack that the signal to enact the escape was Hochstetter's death followed by the tunnel under the cooler blowing. Which would be triggered when Carter verified the death of the Colonel. Then they waited pacing the Colonel's office as they listened to the ongoing interrogation. By the time they began listening, they could tell that things were not going to end well for their beloved commanding officer.

-HHHHHH-

"Now Colonel Hogan, I have been more than patient," Hochstetter's short fuse was about to blow. He had been going in circles with the prisoner of war for well over thirty minutes. The man was infuriating to say the least! The only reason why he was still going in circles with the swine was because at this point he had no other option and the American was stronger than Hochstetter was willing to give him credit for.

"As have I Major. I'm telling the truth, I don't know anything about some...Papa, what was it? Papa Hare?" Colonel Hogan knew he was playing with fire, but the American also knew that at this point he had pretty much nothing to lose. If he fessed up he was dead and more people with him. If he didn't fess up, he was still dead, but there was less of a chance that others would share his fate, at least today. So he held firm. That was in reality the only option he would ever consider anyway.

"Papa Bear. B-E-A-R. Not hare," The major growled signaling for his man to deliver another blow to the prisoner. The corporal struck the American Colonel's shin with the butt of his rifle with deliberate force.

Sucking in a breath from the pain and wincing not wanting to give the gestapo the pleasure of crying out. Colonel Hogan donned a pensive look giving himself a moment to collect himself. Making it seem like the blow had actually jogged his memory he allowed his face to light with mock recollection. Coupled with the perfectly schooled face, he took on a tone that slightly reminded himself of Carter. "Oh! Like from goldilocks?"

"That's the one," Hochstetter growled through clenched teeth. He had not expected much, but this man was utterly impossible! Hochstetter knew he was not going to be able to remain civil much longer. There was only so much of the American's shit he could endure.

"Next thing I know you'll be thinking I'm the big bad wolf," Hogan chuckled at his own joke using the humor to distract himself from the pain he was currently experiencing. Unfortunately, the chuckling had been a bad idea. Every normal breath was no picnic after the guard's rifle had become acquainted with his ribs a few times throughout the course of their chat. Therefore, the chuckle brought on a coughing fit that only served to increase his current discomfort. And that was putting it mildly.

"I have less pleasant ways of making people talk Hogan," Hochstetter waved his hands about as the Colonel continued coughing.

"What do you call this? A little coffee klatch?" Hogan muttered barely audible as he struggled to get himself back under control.

"What was that Colonel Hogan?" Hochstetter genuinely thought Hogan may be ready to divulge some information. Though deep down he realized how nieve that thought was when Hogan was involved.

"So I've heard," Hogan took a few breaths negating a deep breath in attempt to not instigate another coughing fit. "But, you know Major, what happens if you go through all that and then you find out I still have no idea what you're talking about?" Hogan asked being as serious as could be trying to throw his enemy a curveball. His more serious nature was definitely one of the few aces he had up his sleeves.

The look on Hochstetter's face was proof of the efficacy of Hogan's tactic. The strategist smiled internally.

"The first thing you have said that makes sense." Not the sense that the major wanted, but sense nonetheless.

"The only sabotage I know about Major, is Klink stealing from our Red Cross packages."

Growing tired of Hogan's continued insolence once again Hochstetter signaled for his man who brought the weapon down as hard as he could on the Colonel's kneecap.

There was nothing Hogan could do but howl out in pain. The corners of his vision went black and he saw crackles. He felt light headed and nauseous, like he was going to vomit. The other blows had knocked the wind out of him or hurt like a mother, but this. Hogan had never experienced such pain before, and it wasn't ebbing away. His breaths came fast and ragged as he tried to fight through the pain. The American began to feel more dizzy like he was going to pass out. Maybe if he was lucky he'd vomit on Hochstetter.

The howl of pain snapped Klink out of the daze he had been in since the interrogation had started. It was his brain's coping mechanism against witnessing what a fellow German was doing to a man he in a way respected.

"Major, was that absolutely necessary?" Klink asked not even sure what had transpired, but if the sheen of sweat on Hogan's face, his irregular breathing, and clammy skin was anything to go by, this had gotten out of hand a while ago.

"Yes Herr kommandant. This man is hiding secrets," The gestapo major grabbed a fistfull of the black hair of the man tied down in the chair in front of him and jerked it so Hogan was looking him in the eyes. "How do you contact London Colonel?"

"I don't know what you mean," Hogan's resolve had only been solidified by the blow. _Maybe with him this close this would be a good time to puke_ , his brain was screaming.

"How do you get information to and from London?" The Major's grip on the man's hair tightened.

"The same way anyone else does Major. The mail," Colonel Hogan wasn't sure how any of this was going to work. He was starting to feel less light headed, but the painful throbbing and stabbing in his knee was clouding his mind. "If you found a faster way, I'd love to hear it Major because there's this brunette that I would kill to hear from more often." Humor was his go to. It was how he coped. And right now, more than ever before, he needed every coping mechanism he had ever had.

"Hogan, do you ever think of anything but girls?" Klink interrupted. How a man who was quite obviously in great pain could joke about girls was way beyond Klink.

"Sometimes I think about my family back home, and my dog." Hogan quipt. God in heaven Almighty, he missed that damned mutt. What he wouldn't give to have a wet sloppy kiss after playing a game of fetch. It was the small things he seemed to miss the most a fair majority of the time.

"Major Hochstetter, don't you think that a leader in the underground would have more on his mind than girls?" Klink forced a laugh.

"He is stalling, that is all," The Gestapo Major pulled out a pocket knife and opened it inspecting the shiny silver blade.

Hogan didn't even flinch. "You do know that keys would be more effective to take these handcuffs off Major,"

The Major sneered and thrust it into Colonel Hogan's hand.

Once the action registered in Hogan's brain he let out a grunt, but was biting his tongue to stifle any other noise that might try and escape. That hadn't hurt near as bad as the knee, but put them together, the blackening around his field of vision was back and he started to hear a ringing in his ears.

The Major turned it clockwise to increase the pain the instrument was causing. The action also caused Hogan's head to start to feel like the room was rocking side to side and he could taste the bitter bile rising in his throat.

"Now tell me something useful or you will regret it." Hochstetter snarled.

"You really should get your blood pressure checked, your anger levels can't be good for it." He replied swallowing back what was threatening to escape his stomach. His teeth were clenched trying his darndest to stay in the correct frame of mind.

Before Hochstetter could react, a gestapo corporal came barging in with a blue uniform clad man in handcuffs.

"Herr Major, we found this man stumbling around in the woods, maybe is this the man the farmers saw?"

"You dare interrupt me!" Hochstetter bellowed.

"Hogan ol' boy! What have you gotten yourself into this time?" A familiar voice questioned and Colonel Hogan moaned. With all he had one his plate right now, this was the absolute and utter last thing he needed. Anything would have been welcome more! Possibly even that Russian lady...well maybe not, but just no. Not Crittenden!


	5. Small Mercies

**Thank you to all of you who are reading this! I know I had said I had planned to finish this before winter break was over, but we all know how life likes to laugh at our plans. Special thanks to Abracadebra and Visage for your feedback it is sincerely appreciated! So this chapter is what some would classify as a filler chapter, most of the real fun will start next chapter, but I hope you still enjoy this chapter for what it has to offer. Also, I don't own the familiar characters, just borrowing them!**

~5~ Small Mercies ~5~

"Who is this man?" Hochstetter bellowed through clenched teeth taking his attention off Hogan.

"Colonel Crittenden, RAF," The man replied cheerily.

"What were you doing out in the woods? Are you an escaped prisoner looking for the underground? Papa Bear perhaps?" Maybe this was his lucky break! If he could make this man give up something, any small detail could be spun into something damning. Then he wouldn't need to break Hogan to hang him.

"What? No! Of course not. You see, I escaped from Stalag 8 several months ago, but you know, it's hard to move through Germany in the day or the night anymore,"

"You we're headed the wrong way to get out of Germany from Stalag 8 Colonel," Hochstetter sneered.

"I was?" The English Colonel looked genuinely shocked. "My mistake, my map must have been wrong," The Britt looked like the news that he'd been going the wrong direction suddenly made sense.

"One moment. Stalag 8? 5 men escaped about 3 months ago the ranking prisoner for the camp amongst them. Where are the other men?" Hochstetter moved closer to the British man.

"Well you see, I sort of lost them, and I think they continued on without me. As they should! It is a prisoner's duty to escape!"

"Take this man to our Headquarters. I want to question him," The Gestapo Major snarled. He was positive that Hogan was his man, and interrogating this new man might prove more productive then what he was currently engaging in. Not to mention, he only had a few hours left. "We shall finish this later Hogan!" He grabbed his knife from out of Hogan's hand and looked said Colonel right in the eyes. "We will finish this,"

"Do hurry, I'm anxious to see what happens next. I've never been good with cliffhangers Major," Was Hogan's cheeky reply.

"Baaaa!" Hochstetter shouted it utter annoyance as he stormed out of Klink's office.

"Colonel Hogan, what is all this talk about spies and the underground?" Klink asked still completely shocked.

"Your guess is as good as mine kommandant," Hogan sighed. "Any chance you might be able to take these handcuffs off me and get Wilson in here?" Hogan was relieved for the Gestapo Major's absence. His head was pounding and each breath hurt. His knee couldn't move and it felt like a thousand pieces of glass were cutting into him without even attempting to. Not to mention the blood coming out from the knife sized gash in his hand. Now that he was out of eminent danger, the wound in his hand was starting to smart, and that was putting it lightly. He glanced at it and started to feel a little queasy. He wasn't one to be squeamish, but damn. He started to taste the bile rising up in his throat again. He should have not looked at it.

At that moment, back in Colonel Hogan's quarters, there was no time for talk. Carter was tripping over a chair trying to get out of the room to go tell everyone that they were in the clear for now. Lebeau was cursing out the Germans in very colorful French as he followed Carter to spread the word faster. They both instinctively knew the drill. This was everyone's worst nightmare. They were sick to their stomachs and had forgotten that they were all restricted to the Barracks.

Since Schultz was on furlough, Corporal Muller was guarding Barracks 2 and he was not one to turn a blind eye like their favorite rotund guard. This resulted in Carter and LeBeau being herded back into the wooden structure they had just attempted to leave.

Although the men verbally showed their dismay, as soon as the younger guard had closed the door they all bolted for the bunk that hid the entrance to their tunnel system. Lebeau banged twice on the part of the bunk that triggered the opening of the entrance to the tunnel.

Once down in the tunnel, the two looked at eachother and Carter took off down the tunnels while LeBeau stayed and told Kinch what had happened in Klink's office. Kinch instantly got on the radio to the local doctor who by no small miracle was a trusted member of the resistance and a veteran of the previous war. The message was to be on standby. Wilson knew how to handle most life and death situations, so the doc would only be needed later down the line.

With his message passed along to Kinch, LeBeau followed after Carter.

Not seconds after Kinch had signed off with the Doctor, Newkirk in all his Gestapo glory came down the tunnel entrance. When he made his way around to where he had to change, it was right by where Kinch's radio was.

"Halt right there Fritz!" Kinch pulled out the handgun that he kept stashed by the radio.

"Blimey, Kinch, it's just me!" Newkirk put his hands up out of pure habit.

Kinch breathed a sigh of unadultured relief. "Newkirk, thank God you're back, this whole day has me more jumpy than a cat on a tin roof,"

"Kinch, on my way back, a patrol of Gestapo captured someone, was it one of ours? I didn't hear an explosion,"

"It was probably Crittenden. LeBeau said the Krauts brought him in and took him off to Gestapo headquarters. Colonel Hogan is in rough shape from what they can tell. Klink called for Wilson and doc is on standby,"

"Cor, bloody brilliant. Can I do anything?"

"Get changed and help me think of a plan to spring Crittenden, because we all know that's what the colonel would have us do,"

As much as Newkirk wanted to see the Colonel for himself, he knew his friend was right.

Klink had sent corporal Langenscheidt to retrieve Wilson. Carter had arrived in the other man's Barracks just seconds before the German corporal had arrived giving Wilson the chance to gather his supplies and Carter to duck back down to move onto the next barracks before showtime.

"Damn it! This dust is driving me absolutely crazy!" Wilson groaned as he collided with a water barrel turning the corner of a barracks because he couldn't see as the German and American made their way across the compound, handkerchiefs over their noses and mouths.

"The wind just started back up as I crossed the compound to your barracks." Langenscheidt had his eyes squinted as he paused to wait for the prisoner to follow him again.

"Brilliant," Wilson grumbled wanting to get to the kommandantur as fast as humanly possible to see what kind of shape the Colonel was in. From what they knew via the reputation of the Gestapo, chances were, it wasn't going to be good.

"For all our sakes, I hope this wind dies down soon," The German corporal was probably more tired of it than the prisoners seeing as he had to stay out in the annoying conditions for hours on end.

Once in the Kommandantur, Wilson shed his jacket and hat in the outer office to try and minimise the amount of dust that he was going to be bringing with him to a potential bloodbath therefore decreasing infection risk. It was also to stall for time, he knew deep down that time could be of the essence, but this was the Colonel. Wilson didn't want to see the rock of the camp broken.

"Kommandant, the medic is here," Langenscheidt announced giving Wilson only a second to take a deep breath before hearing Klink invite him in.

"Well don't just stand there, send him in!" The German colonel slammed a hand down on his desk.

"Jawohl herr Kommandant," The man ushered Wilson into the office.

Both German and American felt their last meal threatening to come back up. The colonel looked awful! Being a trained medic, within a half of second, Wilson flipped the switch within himself so that he was all business and this was just another patient in need of his help. By some miracle, this patient was still conscious.

"It could be worse," Colonel Hogan quipt as the medic knelt down beside the chair he was in.

"I'll be the judge of that Colonel Hogan," The man shook his head in disbelief. "You are still talking, and more importantly joking, so that is one step in the right direction anyhow," Wilson opened his bag of supplies and grabbed a long strip of bandage and some gauze creating a pressure dressing to the wound on his CO's open wound after cleaning it with an antiseptic. The doc could decide later if he wanted to stitch it up.

"I knew you were the man for the job," Colonel Hogan was relieved he didn't have to look at the open wound anymore. "Although, would you believe that your antiseptic hurt worse than the actual injury?" He was still wincing a bit.

"I won't tell the Gestapo, they might get offended," The colonel wasn't the only one who coped through making light and joking.

"That's the last thing we need is jealous Gestapo. They are clingy enough without jealousy playing a factor," Hogan played along relieved for the distraction.

"That's for sure. Your face looks like it took the place of the punching bag at my old high school, but there's not much I can do for that,"

The Colonel smiled, but forced back a chuckle. "I would laugh, but I think that wouldn't be the best of ideas right now,"

"Mind if I have a look?" Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"That's what you're here for, go right ahead," With slow deliberate movements, he started to unbutton his shirt.

Wilson let the man have his dignity, but he hated to see the colonel struggling with such a rudimentary task. Once the shirt was unbuttoned, the start of some nasty bruises came to the light.

"I think one or two of them are at the least bruised if not fractured," Colonel Hogan informed the medic. "For the record, the butt of a rifle really does hurt. Tell Carter I owe him 5 bucks,"

Wilson couldn't help but chuckle despite the morbidity of the statement. "Whelp, not much I can do other than wrap them, and tell you that you're going to be confined to your bunk for bit and light duty for a while after that," Wilson looked at Kommandant Klink who, to his credit, had remained respectfully silent through the examination.

"Of course, whatever you say," Was the German colonel's reply.

"Mighty kind of you Kommandant," Hogan nodded.

"I hardly think you could escape effectively in your condition," Klink huffed.

"Well, that brunette I was telling you about, she makes a mean chicken soup, so I wouldn't count on it," Hogan winced as Wilson prodded his side.

"Humpf!" Klink added in annoyance. Hogan was so difficult.

"Colonel, any other injuries I should know about?" Wilson was praying to anyone that would listen in thanksgiving that this was the extent of it. Nothing life threatening and nothing too debilitating.

"I can't move my knee. But that's about the end of it. Unless the love taps caused any internal damage,"

"Well, are you light headed or dizzy just sitting there colonel?" Wilson asked palpating his patient's abdomen without provoking the wincing that the prodding to Hogan's chest had.

"No, just still a bit nauseous here and there. But that's still from my knee and looking at my hand earlier,"

"Well, there is no bruising to your abdomen, so I'm not that concerned, but I'll keep an eye out over the next few days," Knee was a bit more debilitating, but Colonel Hogan wasn't the kind of guy to let anything slow him down for long.

"Good, good," Colonel Hogan nodded his head.

"We'll figure out some kind of brace for your knee and hopefully we can get our hands on some ice, but even if it's completely shattered you'll be up and walking on it in a few weeks and healed completely, if you don't overdo it, in a couple months,"

"Thanks Wilson," Hogan tried to school his face as Wilson wrapped his ribs.

"You are just one lucky bastard,"

"I know, for once I'm grateful to that bumbling British menace of a colonel,"

"Crittenden?" Wilson raised an eyebrow as he finished with the wrapping.

"Yeah, Gestapo found him in the woods," There were so many things that needed to be said, but couldn't be said in the present company.

"Unfortunate for him, but lucky for us. You think you can stand up if the corporal and I help support you?" Wilson stood up and closed his bag.

"I can't just stay in this chair, so I sure will try," Hogan slowly buttoned his shirt back up.

"Great. Corporal, if you would help me, that would be great," Wilson gestured to the guard who was still in the room.


	6. All In

~6~All In~6~

Thank all of you are still reading this story! This chapter has been extremely difficult to hash out, and I have been more than nervous while writing this chapter. It has taken me since November to work out all the kinks of how this mission is supposed to happen, and I hope it is outlandish enough yet realistic enough to do our heroes justice! Please let me know what you think! By the way, I officially passed nursing school and my licencing exam! Now, is hopefully what you all have been waiting for!

-~6~-

30 minutes and a penicillin shot later, Colonel Hogan was safely back in his quarters. Although, he refused to actually be in his bunk as his medic had advised. His argument was that despite how he looked, he wasn't hurt THAT badly. Besides, there was important business to attend to. So he sat on the chair at his desk looking over last minute plans with Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau, Rose, Bell, and Carroll. Bell hadn't originally been apart of the plan, but since his unfortunate run in with the friendly Major Hochstetter, they needed an extra man. Bell had proven himself on several missions before, and his German was better than any of the other men they had to pick from tonight, so here he was.

"So does everyone know what they are going to be doing?" Colonel Hogan asked after explaining everything for a second time, more for his own peace of mind than anything.

"Only one question Colonel," Carroll scratched the back of his neck looking at the black and white photograph to Colonel Hogan's right. After seeing Colonel Hogan's face, everyone was dead set on not looking at it again. No one could seem to keep a scowl or a cringe off their face if they did, and Hogan demanded that end two minutes into their little meeting, so now they just avoided looking.

"And that is?" Colonel Hogan kept his tone light. He didn't blame them for not wanting to look at his new facejob, he wasn't so keen on it himself.

"Isn't this whole thing a bit ambitious to begin with, and now we're adding in breaking Colonel Crittenden out of Hochstetter's hands?" Carroll had just started helping out with outside the wire jobs in the last 3 months and wasn't as used to the whole operation as the others sitting around the desk. Besides, he wanted to make it out of this war alive. 23 wasn't old, he still had a whole life to live and a wife to go back to.

"We aren't breaking him out, the underground is, and then they are handing him over to us after we finish our part of the mission," Hogan knew it was risky for sure, but their very existence was risky.

"So if we all have to wait around for them, that increases our risk of getting caught. Especially with the increase of patrols and some of us going to be done way before the others," If anyone would have told him 5 months ago that he would be doubting an officer, Carroll would have laughed at the absurdity of it.

"True, but someone needs to wait for Crittenden, and all at the same time, I want everyone back as soon as humanly possible just in case Klink and Burkhalter get smart and do a roll call," As much as he got annoyed with the bumbling Colonel Crittenden, Hogan felt a duty to help. Unfortunately, his own men were his top priority and if they were caught tonight, it wouldn't just be an uncomfortable 30 days in the cooler, it would be a firing squad.

"Colonel, the plan with the underground is that if they haven't made contact with us by the time the ammo dump goes, they sit on him for a while right?" Carter asked, his gears turning at a rapid pace in his brain.

"That's right." Hogan nodded his head.

"Well, is it so bad if they just sit on him till tomorrow?" Carter truly was trying to figure out how everyone could be as safe as possible.

Hogan took as deep of a breath as he dared so he didn't send himself into a coughing fit. "Tonight, all hell breaks loose, if we don't pick him up tonight, he's the underground's headache for at least a week,"

"I don't see why he has to be our headache," Newkirk grumbled low enough that if anyone heard, they pretended they hadn't.

"What if just me 'n Newkirk waited for him and the rest go back to camp before the refinery and that other bridge go up. That way, only two people are missing from camp," Carter volunteered receiving a bit of a dirty look from Newkirk.

"Alright, that could work. Anyone have a problem with that?" The Colonel looked at all his men, and even Newkirk had to admit it was the best way out, so they all shook their heads in the negative. "Does that make you feel any better Carroll?"

"Yeah, it does,"

"Great, but you owe those two," Colonel Hogan rolled up the maps and handed them to Newkirk who stashed them away.

"Yeah, thanks Carter." Carroll nodded at Carter.

"What about me?" Newkirk complained. "I didn't even have a say in the ruddy matter,"

A few hours later, the men were returning to their Barracks after roll call and Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, Lebeau, and Carroll went straight away into the Colonel's quarters. Rose and Bell would be joining them in the tunnels.

"The sun's setting, does that mean Hochstetter's off our backs Colonel?" Kinch asked. He'd been monitoring communications all day, and there was no evidence that the Gestapo had any real proof that Colonel Hogan was Papa Bear. Crittenden knew all about their operation, and often went toe to toe with them on the ethics of it all, but it seemed the man was holding up under pressure. Hogan and his men would forever be in the Britt's debt.

"Let's not focus on that. It's the least of our worries at the moment," Colonel Hogan knew the threat of Hochstetter wasn't to be blown off, but as he had said, they had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

"Alright Colonel, but I'll update you if anything of interest happens," Kinch nodded before taking off into the tunnels to take up his station. He really needed to train someone else how to monitor that damn radio.

"Alright, everyone be careful. If the wind starts to pick up, the visibility will be shot. We've had enough injuries for one day, come back in one piece ok," The Colonel tried to make light of the situation. As light as he could anyway, and that wasn't much.

"Bloody Brilliant, it's already going to be pitch black," Newkirk sent Carter a look, not that he didn't trust the American, it was just that Carter had a knack for being clumsy. That and they had three under experienced men out with them, without the colonel, on probably the most elaborate mission they'd pulled in a while. So many things could go wrong. So many things.

"Burkhalter just pulled up and went into Klink's office for their chess game," Garlotti informed the men in Hogan's room.

"Alright, looks like it's showtime boys," Hogan pulled off the top of the coffee pot that LeBeau had plugged in and set on the desk so he could listen in on the conversation as boring as it was sure to be until things got rolling.

20 minutes later, Bell, Carroll, Carter, LeBeau, Newkirk, and Rose were outside the camp and started the first phase of the mission. They haphazardly buried several parachutes for the guards to find and then broke off into pairs. Besides that parachutes, they left behind a few modified firecrackers courtesy of Carter near the buried parachutes that were set to go off in 5 minutes.

Newkirk and Bell were dressed as a peasant farming type couple. Newkirk as the wife, much to his grumbling, but it wasn't to be helped, because Bell was for lack of better wording, hairy. Bell was very hairy. Not that it truly mattered, because the original plan including the Colonel, still had Newkirk dressed as the wife. So gathering his pride, and pulling at his annoying girdle, Newkirk led Bell to pick up a horse attached to a wagon that a member of the underground had left for them preloaded with explosives they had picked up from Carter a few days previously. The knowledge that very deadly explosives were mixed in amongst very normal looking produce was enough to put a slight smile on Newkirk's face as they took off for their three targets.

Carter and Rose who were disguised as a gestapo Colonel and Corporal respectively picked up a staff car from a side road a quarter kilometer from camp. This particular staff car was one that the underground had acquired a few months earlier and was passed between whoever had need of it. Like Newkirk and Bell's wagon, the staff car already contained what was necessary to blow up a bridge and the refinery.

LeBeau and Carroll had the least amount of ground to cover and didn't need to be visible, so dressed from head to toe in black they took off on foot towards the bridge that they had blown up so many times already that the task seemed like muscle memory to the Frenchman. They made quick time of it as they wired the bridge with the time delayed action demolition pacts that were set to go off in two hours. The more difficult of the two tasks the pair had before them required the same skills, but the target was bound to be better guarded. Luckily, the wind was playing nice and had refrained from blowing so they had a chance of getting to their next target without getting lost. Unfortunately, it was so quiet out, any little noise could be heard for miles.

The Frenchman and the American stealthily navigated the forest, evading not one, not two, but three patrols. LeBeau made note of landmarks near where they had saw the Germans and subconsciously revised their way back to camp so as to hopefully avoid any further encounters.

Once they reached the dam, which was 3.5 kilometers south west of the bridge, they snuck around the few guards who seemed to be more interested in a poker game than their job. Fate had decided to smile on them LeBeau decided with the smallest of smiles.

Just as they had done with the bridge, they attached to explosives and set the three separate timers, that would start a chain reaction, for three hours before hurrying back to camp. They knew the less people out of camp the better. Besides, once the dam was burst open, the whole valley area would be as though it had never existed. The few resistance families that lived in the path of destruction had already left hours ago.

Even though it was one of the first targets wired up tonight with Carter's specialties, this would be the last thing to explode tonight and would probably do the most damage. Well the last thing Hogan's men were directly responsible for anyway.

The acts of sabotage in the next three hours was the fuse for something much larger. After the dam was blown sky high, a chain reaction would begin via resistance cells across Germany to blow a thing or two up in each of their specific areas. The plan was to make the Germans believe that operation Dragoon had taken place. That way it would relieve pressure on the troops actually involved in the military action that was actually to take place in France. Key players in the French underground would help see to the success of their little coup as well. This was much bigger than just Hogan and his men, and they could feel the pressure. If they didn't execute their part perfectly, it would jeopardize everything.

Newkirk and Bell's part of the mission had the most notable effect right away. Minus the ammo dump that would probably wind up somewhere in New Zealand if they had anything to do with it, their objectives were not so flashy. The disguised couple slowly, due to the advanced age of their horse, made their way to the local radio tower. This particular tower was responsible for almost all of the radio broadcasting in the surrounding area. Only people with their own transmitter, like the prisoners of Stalag 13 would be able to use the invisible waves to communicate.

They rode in silence, neither were particularly nervous, but there was no need for idle chatter that would inevitably draw unwanted attention to them. Bell broke the silence when they approached their target noting the obvious, there was no one protecting the tower

"Either the Krauts have gotten lazy or they are spread thin and this ain't high on the priority list," The New Mexican mumbled under his breath to Newkirk.

"Looks like it, don't it dear?" Newkirk didn't even think twice as he slipped into his well rehearsed older woman voice. He wasn't dressed quite like the usual senile old lady, but he wasn't dressed as any spring chicken either. Being the type for theatrics as he was, since he had a role to played, he played it for all he was worth. It mattered little how much he bemoaned the act before and because for now, the quality of their characters could be all that was between them and an early grave.

"Should make this fairly easy then, unless there are land mines," Bell, who'd yet to go out with Newkirk in a dress, tried not to show his surprise at being referred to as dear when no one was around to hear.

"Our friends looked around earlier and it's not mined, I thought we'd told you that, maybe one of us starting to go, if you know what I mean," Newkirk pointed to his temple snickering a bit, the faux german woman accent extra exaggerated trying to get across to Bell without having to out and say it that they had to be in character at all times as they dismounted from the wagon.

A look of recognition passed over Bell's face both about the earlier briefing and the discrete message from Newkirk. "I'm not the one who powdered my nose twice last Sunday because I'd forgotten I'd done it already," He slipped into a german accent of his own grabbing the light explosives they were going to use on the tower. No one would hardly notice, it would sound like gunshots, Carter really was a master.

Newkirk gave a subtle smile and nod of approval. "At least I don't lose my spectacles when they are obviously on my head," He took one of the packages from Bell and started to climb the tower.

Bell rolled his eyes finding it easy to fall into the role. "Yes dear," Did he really just call Newkirk dear? Obviously he had, Bell tried not to chuckle. This was fun, but acting wasn't something he wanted to get a career in. He followed Newkirk up the tower, but on the opposite side.

Once they had placed they explosives and activated the timers, they quickly returned to the ground, they had 15 minutes. They left the premises as fast as their old horse would allow. Along the road to the ammo dump, they periodically stopped, climbed a power line and cut the wires. The Colonel and a local electrical worker had mapped out sometime last week the exact coordinates of all the vital lines, and so, it wasn't a straight shot drive to the ammo dump, but they got there without having been stopped once and that was saying something because they covered 15 kilometers of territory. Bell was feeling good, but Newkirk didn't trust fate to leave them alone tonight, so he wary, very wary.

Besides, this was the hardest part of the job. By now the soldiers at the ammo dump had no electricity and were without radio access, so they were on tightened security. The good news was that even if the Germans demanded to unload the produce themselves, Newkirk and Bell would be long gone once the explosions started. It would be a slow burn and the explosions would probably continue for days.

That was the worse case scenario, the best being the German soldiers wouldn't want to spare the men to do such a menial task and with some small distraction tactics, there was a chance that they could get some of the explosives in where they could make some real fireworks happen.

Bell and Newkirk pulled up to the front gate and were greeted by a man in uniform that didn't even look like a man, he looked not a day over sixteen.

Newkirk handled the conversation with ease. "Guten Abend Sohn," He put on what he hoped was a motherly tone.

"Guten Abend," The boy nodded his head at the woman who had spoken to him. "Es ist spät Frau, wofür bist du hier? (It is late Mrs, what are you here for?)

"Wir bringen Äpfel, Eier und andere Produkte aus unserem Hof für Sie, liebe Jungs," (We bring apples, eggs and other produce from our farm for you dear boys,)

"Ihre Papiere?" (Your papers?)

Newkirk handed over his papers that identified him as Frau Hedwig Meier and Bell handed over his papers that read Herr Franz Meier. The boy looked them over and nodded at the couple who were not old enough to be his grandparents, but older than his parents. He didn't say anything as he handed them back and opened the gate for them. So far so good, it seemed as though even with tightened security, a little motherly kindness went a long way.

Once through the gates, the pair was greeted by 3 burly guards that actually looked like they belonged in the war. "Was machst du?" (What are you doing?) The tallest of the three barked sounding half dog half man. It was obvious that Newkirk's motherly act was not going to cut it with this lot.

"Lieferungen," (Deliveries) Bell answered for them going off of the subtle look Newkirk had given him when the guards had approached. This lot wouldn't go for any motherly act.

"Und die Frau?" (And the woman?) The same guard grunted apparently appeared by Bell's first answer, if only slightly.

"Das letzte Mal, als ich sie allein verließ, brannte das Haus fast nieder," (The last time I left her alone, the house nearly burned down) Bell gave the guards a small look that matched with gesture to his own head gave them the impression that his 'wife' was not all there in the head.

Though internally Newkirk was pleased that Bell had come up with a good cover so fast, he acted a bit indignant letting out a loud huff.

The soldier who had been questioning them grunted in acceptance of the explanation and the other two snickered. The three then returned about their business no longer interested in the farmer and his insane wife.

"Good one," Newkirk whispered never once losing his accent before hiking up his skirt to climb out of the wagon.

Bell couldn't hide the smile on his face. "It just came to me," The shorter man whispered back as they pulled their first baskets off the wagon.

"Well I'm proud that I'm rubbing off on you that much dear, even if I am crazy." Newkirk went to carry his basket to where the German's expected it to go, but a slight cough from Bell had him turn around.

"Why don't you just wander around with yours, I mean, they think you're more crazy than I do, and that might make this go off with an even bigger bang, if you know what I mean," Bell had a slight smirk on his face.

The smirk must have been contagious because newkirk felt one slipping onto his face as well. He didn't respond with words, but wandered around with a basket filled with eggs and a time bomb. He knew very well how to act like a batty old woman, his grandmum was his muse after all.

It took only 20 minutes, which was 10 less than what they had allotted to complete the task, to unload the wagon, and thanks to Newkirk's wanderings, there were little presents hidden all over that amo dump, and it was sure to go up like nothing they'd ever seen before. The guards hadn't hardly noticed him, and the ones who did just sorted and shook their heads, it was brilliant.

Newkirk and Bell left the dump with a sense of a job well done. Although, Newkirk still had a nagging suspicion that this was all going off too smoothly. Besides, he still had to wait on both Carter and Crittenden before he could return to the relative safety of camp. That fact alone made him nervous, and it sat in his stomach like the so called bread from the mess hall.

The Britt dropped Bell off near the camp before going to return the horse and waggon to where they had picked it up from. Bell found that the camp was much more heavily guarded around the perimeter, the dogs were out, and they all seemed to be searching. Good, he thought, found the parachutes. They had accounted for this when planning the mission, so Bell made his way to the tunnel they had prepared that's entrance and exit was further out in the woods. He was the third person back, now only half the team was unaccounted for.

After tying up the horse, Newkirk made his way on foot to where they had decided it was safe for him to meet Carter. As he moved about and hid in the shadows, he desperately wished he could have been wearing black or even some kind of military outfit. But the Colonel had said that it would be less suspicious for a 'senile old lady' to be out in the woods than a figure in black. The only thing that was keeping him from jumping out of his skin was that it was pitch black outside. That, and surprisingly the dust that had been insanely challenging lately was not rearing its ugly head yet. This was all going much too smooth for Newkirk's liking, much too smooth.

Of course, things were not running that smoothly for Carter and Rose. Guarding the bridge which they were supposed to be mining, so it would go up with a convoy of petrol from North Africa, were at least 30 guards. With the radio not functioning, the importance of the convoy, and the same bridge having been sabotaged another time important fuel had been coming through, it was not that hard to conceive why it was so heavily guarded. But that was of little help. They had figured the bridge would be guarded, it usually was, but they'd never anticipated this many guards.

Carter decided that he would distract some of the guards giving Rose the opportunity to sneak under the bridge and set up the explosives. The only problem with this little plan was that Rose had yet to go out on a simple bridge blowing up mission, let alone one that involved setting up a pressure bomb that typically only Carter handled.

The pair set a quarter kilometer from the bridge in their saff car as Carter told Rose the directions to set the mine properly. Knowing they had a schedule to keep, the process was hurried and Rose thought he might just pass out in the process. This was huge, and they couldn't afford even the smallest of slip ups. Operation Dragoon was riding on the success of tonight. Colonel Hogan had explained as much.

His exact words were: "Gentlemen, there is a top secret operation for another land invasion by allied forces on the continent of europe, Operation Dragoon. And London and Washington don't want it to have as many fatalities as what happened in Normandy. So our job is to convince the Nazis all the way to old scrambled brains himself that the invasion is happening, which will take some of the initial pressure off our boys landing in the morning,"

"Why can't we just swap uniforms? I mean we are about the same size, and we're gestapo, we can just push them around and it wouldn't seem odd," Rose finally suggested after getting lost in Carter's explanation.

Carter paused and thought on it briefly, "You know what, that's a great idea! Just don't get yourself shot. You know, those guards probably won't like being pushed around is all, so you know, just be careful," Carter rambled as he took off the parts of his uniform that identified him as the higher ranking soldier and swapped them with Rose. Carter got out of the staff car with the bag of his toys slung over his shoulder.

Luckily, Rose made a wonderful distraction, probably better than any Carter could have, save impersonating Hitler. After mining the bridge, Carter meet Rose on the other side and they took off on the 20 kilometer car ride to the refinery, sure in was the long way, but it wouldn't make sense to cross a bridge to just turn around again. So they had to take the scenic route and a different bridge.

London had been on their backs for awhile now to blow up the refinery, but with it being a good 12 kilometers from camp, it was almost impossible to get to without a vehicle, and they had been struggling in that department lately, so they had to wait for the availability of this communal staff car.

Arriving at the refinery, they switched back uniform pieces so their identification cards matched their faces. They cited a surprize inspection ordered by Hitler himself. They quickly were ushered in and Carter went into Nazi mode scaring the pants off of the civilians working the plant. The few guards weren't pleased, but they stayed out of his way.

Towards the end of the 'inspection,' they asked to see the boiler room to make sure it was up to top German standard and were quickly shown it. Discreetly, Rose set down the briefcase he had been holding which contained the already set timed bomb. They still had about 30 minutes before it would go off. They quickly told the forman who'd been showing them around that were doing a fair job, and that he would keep his life before storming back out as brashly as they had entered. Nothing too glamorous, just in, terrorise, plant, terrorise, and out.

They drove in silence all the way to where Rose would drop Carter off so the Sargent could make his way to where he was to meet Newkirk. After dropping off the greatest pyromaniac of the century, Rose returned the staff car, and went back into camp through the new tunnel. The tunnel further out into the woods had been a genius idea that a guy from barracks 6 had suggested after a close call one night. The Colonel had asked for ideas from each barracks, and in the end, that idea had won.

Carter made his way to where Newkirk was supposed to be waiting for him, and to his credit, he only tripped twice. "Newkirk?" Carter hissed in a loud whisper.

"I'm over here mate," Newkirk whispered back from the shadows making Carter jump slightly.

"That's one way to scare a guy," Carter's eyes were still wide.

"Stop your yapping, and get over here," Newkirk stepped out of the shadows slightly to pull Carter back with him.

Carter let out a small indignant noise before Newkirk could put a hand over Carter's mouth.

"Be quiet would you," Newkirk whispered, letting go of the American.

Carter nodded his head and the pair waited in silence. Five minutes into waiting for the underground people to show up with the British Colonel, the wind started to pick up slightly and the wind was swirling slightly in an ominous manner. As if by some unstated law that once one thing went wrong, everything has to go wrong, the American and Britt heard a patrol walking by and they stopped right near where Newkirk and Carter were attempting to blend in with the shadows.

Newkirk gave Carter a look holding a finger up to his lips. Unfortunately, that made one of the shadows move in the slightest of ways, and the next thing, the pair knew, they were taking fire. Newkirk and Carter were startled, the loud noise of gunfire, breaking the silence of the night and the terror of being shot ran through their veins. They took off running hoping to escape unscathed. They decided to head towards camp, but the wind was picking up even more and they could barely see two feet in front of their faces as they tried to blindly navigate through the woods.

They didn't realize they had been running in the wrong direction until they nearly ran into a wall that they recognised to be a wall belonging to a barn.

"Bloody hell," Newkirk grumbled.

"Let's go in to wait out this storm," Carter started feeling his way down the side of the wall. It was the same concept as if you got lost or were outside during a blizzard.

"Now he has two bits of sense," Newkirk grumbled following after Carter. What a pair they made.

Finding the door, they let themselves in and Carter located a lantern lighting it so they could better assess the situation. Only when he went to strike the match did Carter realize something was very wrong.


	7. Expect the Unexpected

~7~Expect the Unexpected~7~

Second to last chapter. Hopefully you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed running with this particular chapter! I don't own any of the familiar stuff :) Thanks for reading!

-~7~-

RECAP

Only when he went to strike the match did Carter realize something was very wrong.

RECAP OVER

The adrenaline pumping through Carter's veins had masked the fact that one of the bullets that the patrol had fired was lodged in his left shoulder. Although, as soon as the match flashed to light and he lit the gas lantern hanging from one of the stalls, he could see the darker stain down the arm of his black Gestapo uniform jacket.

Newkirk called the issue to attention before Carter's brain could even start to realize what that stain meant. "Carter, you've been shot!" Was all Newkirk could get to come out of his mouth.

"Sure does look like it," Carter mumbled and moved his arm to test it. He groaned and cradled the affected limb. "Shoot! That hurt!" The American hissed looking at Newkirk with wide eyes his heart pounding.

"I bloody well expect it would," Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Get over here you bloody idiot!" He beckoned Carter over.

Carter obediently walked the short distance to where Newkirk was standing. The flickering lantern was casting eerie shadows all around them. Newkirk helped him out of the bloody black jacket. Both of them looked quite a sight. Newkirk had lost his bonnet somewhere in the woods and his wig and glasses were quite ascue. Not to mention he was quite dusty. Carter failed to stifle a chuckle at the sight.

"What's so bloody funny?" Newkirk grumbled poking Carter's shoulder to shut him up.

"Ow! Watch it!" Carter hissed almost jumping out of his boots.

After a little further inspection Newkirk shook his head. "Bullet's still in there mate,"

Carter's eyes went wide, "Well you've got to get it out then!"

"Me? You must be off your bloody rocker!" Newkirk protested emphatically.

"I've got a pocket knife, you got to get it out, please!" Carter was begging, at this point the panic Carter felt was shining in his eyes. He didn't want a bullet in side of him!

"Carter, I'll do more harm than good, and what about infection? You wanna lose your arm?"

Carter shook his head taking a few calming deep breaths. He let out a long sigh. "No," He whispered looking down at the dirt floor that was strewn with hay where they were standing.

"You're always so dramatic Andrew, let's wait for the wind to die down then we'll get you back to camp and Wilson'll take care of it." He patted Carter's good shoulder reassuringly.

"Yeah, yeah," Carter took a few more deep breaths. His arm was really starting to hurt.

Suddenly, a loud piercing wail was heard over the silence of the night. Carter's heart started to race faster than it had running through the woods. He knew that sound.

"What was that?" Newkirk asked startled, eyes wide.

"She needs help," Was all Carter could spit out before heading to the door, his arm and Newkirk forgotten.

"No! Carter, wait! It's probably just the farmer and his wife having sex!" Newkirk trailed after Carter, but Carter didn't hear a word of what Newkirk had said. The cry came louder and Carter took off at a sprint out of the barn. Newkirk groaned but took out after the Little Deer Who Ran Swift and Sure Into Trouble barely taking the time to note that the wind had stopped and the dust had settled.

Carter swung open the already unlocked door and Newkirk groaned to himself sure that Carter was going to be walking in on a husband and wife in the midst of a passionate embrace. The Britt was still holding Carter's bloody jacket as they trekked further into the house following the sound of a woman screaming.

Newkirk was sure Carter had gone crazy! The idiot had a bleeding bullet lodged in his shoulder and was still losing blood because he'd run off before Newkirk could do anything. Bloody idiot. As he watched Carter burst through what had to be a bedroom door, the sound of the ammo dump blowing up could be heard, as could the subsequent blasts caused by the chain reaction. Newkirk couldn't help but smirk, one job well done. Now, this on the other hand was a bloody disaster.

Newkirk was shocked though to find not what he'd expected once he entered the bedroom. On the bed was a pale blond haired girl who couldn't be any older than 17 drenched in sweat and quite obviously in labor. What shocked him even more was Carter holding her hand and speaking to her in a hushed whisper.

Turning to Newkirk with a bit of a wild look in his eyes, Carter took a deep breath and rolling up his sleeves, oblivious to his bad shoulder or fighting through the pain, one or the other Newkirk wasn't sure, and ordered him in German to go fetch cool rags.

The girl began to puff breath per Carter's instructions, and he continued to ask her a few questions about her labor pains and the likes. He wanted to physically examine her, but he wanted to wait for Newkirk to be out of the way first. He didn't need someone breathing over his shoulder.

When Newkirk came back with them, he was quickly sent away again to find towels, yarn, scissors, and a pan but not to come back until he heard the baby's cry and to also warm some water on the stove.

Newkirk opened his mouth to protest but another cry of pain from the young woman startled him and he decided he didn't want to be this close to the action, so he left.

Carter quickly moved so he could examine her to see how much time they had and what was going on. He paled at what he saw. He looked up at her and for a few seconds the words he needed couldn't come to him in German. They swirled around in his head rapid fire in Sioux and even an English word here or there, but German was a no go. Suddenly, he heard a pan crash in the kitchen and if by some miracle that jogged his memory and he could suddenly remember what he needed to say.

He grounded himself taking a deep breath and calmly without wasting any more of the valuable time he had left helped the girl get into a position that elevated her pelvis. He scanned the room looking for anything that would help just a little more. Spotting a small stepping stool, he hurried and grabbed it before tossing off his gloves and helping her, though it was super uncomfortable, into a position taking the pressure off of the protruding umbilical cord. Once Carter managed to slip the cord back in, he let out a shaky breath.

This could be worse, this could be worse, this could be worse, was the mantra that Carter's brain kept supplying as he helped the young woman back into a position more conducive to delivering a baby. Hopefully that cord wouldn't come popping back out on them, because he'd seen that happen before. By no small miracle, the rest of the delivery went as smoothly as one could go.

The newborn looked more blue than pink which initially scared the shit out of Carter, but the baby was moving, and once the mucus was cleared from his airway, the baby's loud cries rang through the room. Newkirk chose the moment that Carter was helping the new mother to latch her baby onto her breast to come back into the room. His arms were laden with towels and the pan, yarn, and scissors.

The Britt stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the room, it suddenly hit him what had just transpired over the last 30 minutes. Newkirk had been so jumpy and had cursed himself several times a minute for forgetting his cigarettes, but he hadn't actually processed anything more than screams. He looked like he'd been the one who birthed the baby. His wig was even more ascue than it had been after the run through the woods and his glasses were severely lopsided. Newkirk suddenly realized something else, this was probably not the first child Carter had delivered. Newkirk didn't know what shocked him more, the fact that Carter knew how to deliver babies or that they had never known that about the young Yank.

Carter looked over at his friend and fought hard to suppress his laughter and in the end it was for nought as he let out a chuckle. That caused the girl to start giggling at Newkirk.

The laughter made Newkirk roll his eyes. Carter had no room to talk, he looked like someone who'd just come out of a messy fight where you didn't want to see what the other guy looked like. His white shirt was covered in blood and other body fluids, his tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, and wait, he wasn't wearing his gloves! Carter was also practically as sweaty as the new mother.

Newkirk was snapped out of his funk when Carter asked for the scissors and the yarn, to which he fumbled like an insane person to get it out of the pan. He snorted when he heard Carter whisper something to the girl about his mother being a little out of it upstairs, to which the girl smiled sympathetically.

Carter had barely resituated the infant recovering both mother and child, with the extra quilt he'd found earlier, after cutting the cord before the girl made a scrunched up face and then looked at Carter with wide eyes. "Was ist es jetzt?" (What is it now?)

"Shh, liebchen, es ist nur die Nachgeburt," (It is only the afterbirth) Carter soothed the girl before grabbing the pan out of Newkirk's hands and proceed to deliver the placenta to which Newkirk had to step out of the room once he realized what was going on because he'd begun to feel queasy.

Carter stepped out of the room a few minutes later to have a whispered conversation with Newkirk in English.

"She said her husband was supposed to come back with the Doctor," Carter hissed leading Newkirk into the kitchen still holding the pan with placenta. Newkirk tried to ignore it but was failing pretty miserably.

"So do we wait for them to get back?" Newkirk asked turning his head to the floor as Carter began to inspect the content of his pan. He was going to puke, he could feel it.

Luckily he didn't because Carter stopped almost as quickly had started, it looked like it was almost instinct. "I think that'd be best, I'd like to talk to whatever doctor comes. By the way, how long ago did you warm the water?" Carter raised an eyebrow testing the water in the pot that was still on the stove and making a pleased face he poured some into a smaller pot that was sitting on the counter. Unfortunately, half as much that wound up in the pot got all over Carter. Luckily it was just warm, not scalding hot.

Newkirk huffed indignantly deciding not to dignify Carter with a response. He rolled his eyes at how contradictory Carter was. He was competent enough to obviously deliver a baby and talk like a sane person, but he was still the clumsiest person Newkirk had ever met. It was bloody annoying.

"Anyway, I'm going to clean her up," Carter said after mopping up his water mess off the floor with a towel that was lying on the counter. He set off with his pot and a few rags that he snagged from a folded pile on the table.

Not for the first time, Newkirk felt as if he'd been left in the dust that night. He quickly trailed off after Carter. They hadn't decided on anything! They were late getting back, people were worrying about them. Carter was shot, and the bloody fool was going to give someone a sponge bath.

But Newkirk bit his tongue from bringing any of that up as he watched as Carter gingerly washed the woman, not just where Newkirk thought would be necessary, but her entire body maintaining her privacy every step of the way. Newkirk couldn't fail to notice that Carter was favoring his arm that had taken a bullet earlier in the night and that the younger man's stoic features hid any other signs of discomfort. Where had this Carter come from?

After the new mother and the infant were cleaned, Carter asked the woman where she kept her linens, and retrieving a new set from the wooden chest in the corner, he changed out the soiled sheets with new mother cradling her infant still in the bed. He hadn't looked over at Newkirk for help which was for the best, because the Britt had no idea how to do that. Once Carter had them tucked in nice and comfortable, he whispered some instructions to the girl that made both of their faces flushed.

Newkirk's eyes went wide as he heard the front door open and two rushed male voices carry through the house. Newkirk subconsciously straightened his wig, which he found it desperately needed to be. He recognised the first man who hurried into the bedroom to be the doctor who was a part of the local resistance.

The doctor's eyes widened slightly as he recognized two of Papa Bear's men through their disguises. They widened even more when he realized that his patient had already delivered her baby!

"Wer bist du?" (Who are you?) The second man, who Newkirk assumed was the husband and father demanded. Newkirk recognised the man also as a local farmer who supplied the camp with food on occasion. All the Heroes knew about this particular farmer was that he had been severely wounded in North Africa a year ago and the doctors thought he was going to die, so they discharged him honorably and sent him home to die, but he had survived against all odds. The man seemed to suddenly realize that one of the strange men was Gestapo and saluted Carter who returned it but very casually and practically waved him off.

"Entschuldigung für unser Eindringen," (Apologies for our intrusion,) Carter nodded to the man. Carter then introduced Newkirk as his mother and explained briefly that they had taken shelter from the dust storm in the man's barn, heard cries of pain, and decided to come check what was wrong. Once he finished his short tale regarding the delivery of the infant, Carter shot the doctor a look that signaled that he needed to talk to him outside.

"Danke, Herr. Ich schulde Ihnen," (Thank you sir. I owe you,) The new father bowed his head.

"Unsinn, ich bin einfach nur froh, dass ich helfen könnte," (Nonsense, I'm just glad I could help,) Carter smiled at the new father. "Herzlichen Glückwunsch zu Ihrem neuen Sohn," (Congratulations to your new son,) He added with a nod of his head.

"Danke!" The man was now beaming, there was nothing like new life to break down walls that kept many a man stoic.

Carter motioned for his 'mother' and the doctor to follow him out of the room. The doctor followed the two other men to the kitchen where Carter heaved a massive sigh. "They are so lucky we got stranded here," He whispered eyes wider than Newkirk had ever seen them.

"What do you mean?" The doctor's face furrowed.

"She had a prolapsed cord," Carter shook his head. "If she'd delivered with no one here…" A shudder wracked the American's body. His face started to look panicked as if the severity of the situation had just dawned on him.

"The infant survived?" The doctor asked not being able to keep the shock out of his voice, even though he could have sworn he'd heard baby noises in the bedroom.

"Yeah, he was a little blue, but pinked up real fast. There's nothing else really to note though, latched on super fast and everything." Carter shrugged his shoulders wincing at the motion.

The doctor shook his head. "You've done this before?" It was a pretty stupid question in retrospect.

"Yeah, a time or two," Carter shrugged and winced again while grumbling to himself about being so stupid.

Newkirk snorted. "You think someone smart enough to deliver a baby could remember there's a bloody bullet in his shoulder," The Britt muttered before he excused himself from the kitchen.

Carter's eyes widened, "Where are you going?" He asked Newkirk desperate.

"I'm going to grab all your stuff you left lying around in there while you get your shoulder taken care of. I've seen enough blood for one night," The Englishman shuddered.

The doctor had them quickly on their way shaking his head. Prolapsed cords were not something to just shrug off. He's lost 5 infants since the start of the war to that particular complication. Granted he wasn't specialized in delivering babies, that had been his partner who'd disappeared almost a decade ago. Dr. Goldburg had been one of the best doctors he'd ever had the pleasure of working with. It was that reason he'd decided he didn't agree with the powers at be. He was going to have to talk with Colonel Hogan about maybe picking his man's brain as to how he'd so effectively handled the emergency. The doctor went back into the bedroom to assess his two patients.

Newkirk and Carter trekked back to camp, their journey made much easier without a swirling dust storm interfering. As they passed the rendezvous point, they noticed that two men were lurking. Carter could tell from their stature that one of them was actually a woman, so he glanced at Newkirk who nodded at him. The pair approached the other two. They then noticed there was a third person, but the third individual was very unconscious.

"Crickets always sing loudest when Saturn and Uranus are aligned," Carter gave the code that they were supposed to have given the underground hours ago.

"No one understands why moss hates the heat," The woman responded with a slight roll of her eyes. "Your London needs better codes." She huffed.

"Tell me about it, and it's his London, not mine," Carter smiled at the woman who he recognised as Snow White.

Snow White snorted "Take him. Please!" She gestured at the man on the ground.

"How long were you waiting?" Newkirk asked her shocked that they had waited at all when no one was at the contact point.

"We thought you left already. We just got here, so many patrols," she shook her head.

"Bloody hell." Newkirk glanced at his watch. "We are over two hours late."

"You try maneuvering a delirious fool." Snow White grunted. "Gruber knocked him completely out 20 minutes ago. You should go before he decides to wake again." The light brown haired woman urged them.

"Things didn't go the way we expected them to, but it seems like it all worked out," Carter murmured to Newkirk 20 minutes later as they were rigging up a way to get a still unconscious Colonel Crittendan down the tunnel entrance. The tunnels were completely empty which was odd. They only had three arms betwixt them and that was making things challenging.

A serious amount of creativity later, they had the British Colonel tucked into one of the bunks reserved for flyers on their way back to London.

"He doesn't look like he's in that bad of shape," Carter whispered to Newkirk who nodded his head solemnly.

"One of us needs to watch him, so he doesn't wake up and destroys the whole bloody place," Newkirk glanced at the sleeping form.

"I'll go change, and once I'm done, you can change and go get the Colonel," Carter suggested.

"I'm in a bloody girdle, I get to change first!" Newkirk huffed indignantly.

"I am bloody." Carter gave Newkirk a pleading puppy dog look.

Newkirk groaned. "Ok, go bloody change," He gave up pretty easily. "But who'd damn fault is it that you are that messy?" Newkirt tossed his wig to Carter.

Carter just smiled shaking his head accidentally dropping the wig after having successfully caught it.

Newkirk would have laughed if it had been any other day. But he was so bloody tired. It was all starting to hit him like a ton of bricks.

Carter came back with his cheeks a bit flushed not two minutes later. "With the way doc wrapped my arm, I can't undo all my buttons,"

"Oh bloody hell!" Newkirk groaned propelling himself off of the wall with most of his remaining energy.

"Go get the rest of your uniform, and I'll help you, bleeding idiot," The Englishman shook his head.

"Hey! I'm sorry," Carter snapped. "I can't help it that someone shot me!"

"I'm just teasing you Andrew," Newkirk sighed heavily.

"Sorry Newkirk," Carter visibly deflated.

"It's been a bloody night from hell, go get your stuff," Newkirk prompted the American Sergeant.

Once both men had changed, Newkirk went up to fetch someone, the Colonel wasn't allowed down into the tunnel, so he figured he'd be retrieving Kinch.

He was greeted by a frantic group of men all getting ready for roll call. He looked at his watch. "Oh bloody hell, " Was all Newkirk could get out before he was surrounded by men bombarding him with questions.

"Where's Carter?" Kinch asked above all the racket.

"Down watching Colonel walking disaster," Newkirk grumbled.

"You got him?" The second in command looked thoroughly pleased and equally shocked.

"Yeah, me and Andrew had a bit of a detour, and the underground kept running into patrols," Newkirk over simplified the situation for time sake.

"LeBeau, go down and get Carter, hopefully Crittenden doesn't destroy the place before roll call is over," Kinch shook his head.

"It's like having a bloody infant," Newkirk grumbled causing the other men to laugh.

After roll call, Carter, Kinch , LeBeau, and Newkirk made their way for the tunnel, but Colonel Hogan stopped them dead in their tracks.

"Carter, Newkirk, my office," He pointed one of his crutches that he'd used to assist him to attend roll call that morning at the door leading to said office.

The two men exchanged a look between each other but obediently trailed into Colonel Hogan's quarters.

"Which one of you is going to explain why you were back so late?" Hogan asked as soon as the door shut behind them, his voice calm and even.

"Would you believe that Carter delivered a bleeding baby?" Newkirk responded getting a dirty look from Carter.

"What?" Colonel Hogan snorted having half a mind to laugh.

"Well, that's the main reason we were late sir," Was Carter's response.

"No, there's a whole bloody list Carter," Newkirk smirked slightly.

"Me getting shot wasn't my fault!" Carter went to cross his arms defensively, but winced loudly at the action and decided against it.

"Shot?" Colonel Hogan's eyes went wide.

"Gestapo patrol shot at us at the rendezvous point, and so we ran. We thought we were headed to camp, but because we were avoiding the main paths, and the dust was becoming an issue, we wound up on a farm and the dust storm was just getting worse,"

"Who was leading the way? That's why we bloody got lost!" Newkirk interjected.

"Anyway," Carter sighed not wanting to get in a fight with Newkirk "we took cover in the barn, and that's when we realized I'd taken a bullet. Before-"

"The bleeding idiot wanted me to take it out!" Newkirk cut in again.

"I was scared, sorry!" Carter couldn't help but get defensive at that point.

"Gentlemen, can we just continue with your report please?" Colonel Hogan interjected before the debate turned into something more ugly. This already seemed like something that coming from anyone but those two he wouldn't believe.

"Yes Sir, Colonel," Carter looked down at the floor. "So, as I was saying Colonel, Before we could regroup, I heard a woman who sounded like she was in labor, and so we went to see if she needed help, which she did,"

Newkirk snorted at the we part.

Without being interrupted verbally by Newkirk, Carter continued on. "So we delivered the baby-" He should have known his luck wouldn't hold because Newkirk cut him off yet again.

"He means he delivered the bleeding baby and sent me to the kitchen,"

"You couldn't even look at the placenta when I was making sure it was intact!" Carter's voice had risen several notches at this point.

"How did you even bloody know how to do any of that? You were like some doctor or midwife or something!" Newkirk's voice increased to a tone even louder than Carter's had been.

"My mom and grandma are midwives, and they taught me, ok?!" Carter spat out, his face red.

"You said you'd delivered one or two babies, is that true?" Newkirk was calming down only slightly, he didn't realize until then how much it bothered him that he didn't know why Carter could just go into that situation and know exactly what to do.

"I assisted in over 50 births Newkirk, and delivered over 20 myself, does that satisfy you?" Carter was still steaming, what was Newkirk's problem?

"Wait, are you serious?" Colonel Hogan couldn't help but interject.

"Yes Sir," The colonel's level headed interjection was what Carter needed to cool down a bit himself. "I started helping grandma when mom had my kid brother when I was 15, and when the war started, doctors became pretty scarce and I was in rural Indiana, so, since I had experience, I kinda was the go to guy," Carter shrugged his good shoulder.

"Why didn't you ever tell us that?" Newkirk furrowed his brow.

"It wasn't relevant until now. Can we get back to the report?" Carter snapped at Newkirk again, he needed sleep.

"Yes, please continue." Colonel Hogan prompted him they all needed sleep.

"So after the baby was born, we waited for the doctor to show up because she'd told us that her husband had gone to get him. So when he showed up, he fixed up my arm, if that didn't hurt, I don't know what would boy!" Carter's eyes got wide, "I mean sir," He trailed off for a second, "then we headed back here, when we got to the rendezvous point, the underground were waiting with Colonel Crittenden, so we brought him back, got changed, went to roll call, and now we're here," Carter finally finished his report with a sigh.

"You both are lucky they didn't decide to have any surprise bunk inspections through the night," Was all that Colonel Hogan could stay as he processed the information, it was just so far out there, not something he'd ever though he'd have to deal with.

"You can say that again!" Carter sighed heavily. "Sorry for being so late Colonel,"

"All's well that ends well Carter. You two go out and get some sleep, you had quite a night, I'll talk to you both again later," Colonel Hogan dismissed them. Yes, he'd been more than just a little worried last night and yes, he hadn't slept a wink either, and yes he had a ton of questions, but that made more sense as to why to delay any further discussion a few more hours. Everyone was safe again, and for now that was all that mattered.

Small Author's note...These days what they teach us about prolapsed cords is straight to the OR ASAP, I won't grace you with graphics of the matter, but yeah. Also, how Carter handled the emergency is based on what I saw on an episode of Call the Midwife. If you have any other concerns or questions on any of the logistics, please message me!


	8. The Turning Tide

As promised, this is the last chapter! Hope everyone enjoys! As always, I don't own Hogan's Heroes!

~8~The Turning Tide~8~

Colonel Hogan hadn't even remembered closing his eyes, but he woke up with a start when he heard a heavy knock on his door. He knew it was Kinch from the sound of the knock. He had learned to differentiate every guy in the barracks knock ages ago. Hogan cleared the sleep from his throat before responding to the knock.

"Enter,"

"Colonel, General Burkhalter just showed up and he doesn't look too happy," Kinch replied as soon as he entered the small room.

Colonel Hogan groaned looking at his watch, it was still only 7:30 in the morning.

"I also received a message from London," Kinch added without giving his commanding officer time to respond.

Hogan raised an eyebrow at his second in command. "What did it say?" London couldn't want them to pull off another mission so soon! Well they could, but that was beside the point.

"Basically, that our part of the mission was more of a success than they could have hoped for because it relieved a whole lotta pressure off our boys who landed a few hours ago and they were still standing by for extraction if we needed it,"

"Good, I'm glad it worked," Colonel Hogan failed stifling a yawn. "Plug in the coffee pot, I feel like a cup of what passes for German comedy these days,"

"Puts ol' Laurel and Hardy to shame don't it guvna?" Newkirk interjected from where he was leaning on the door frame before yawning himself.

Colonel Hogan nodded his head with a small smile. It was still a huge relief that Newkirk and Carter had made it back in one piece, albeit shaken up and injured respectively.

"-gan is innocent then?" Klink's wobbling voice reverberated through the small speaker.

"It would look like it. There is no way that a prisoner could have orchestrated all that happened last night and this morning. There are still damages being reported," Burkhalter sounded like it pained him to admit it.

"And the Englander they found in the woods," Another voice was heard.

"Who's that Colonel?" Carter asked rubbing sleep out of his eyes with his right hand as he came in late to the party.

"He was obviously the leader. He was taken away last night before most of the commotion started to take place." The new voice declared in a silky tone.

Hogan frowned "I dunno Carter. Doesn't sound familiar. Kinch, did Burkhalter bring company?"

"I only saw his staff car Colonel," was the second in command's reply.

"Carter, go get eyes on him," Hogan ordered easily falling into their well known rhythm. No rest for the weary as they say.

"Yes sir," Carter nodded his head and took out to go get a look at the newcomer.

Before he could get even halfway to the barracks door. He heard the Colonel tell him to come back, so he did.

"Go down into the tunnel with Kinch and see if Wilson needs anything with Crittenden while Kinch contacts the underground and London about this Captain Dinkelman,"

"You got it!" Carter couldn't help but grin. The Colonel still looked rough, but everything was feeling normal again. Yesterday had seemed way longer than just a mere day.

Once down in the tunnels, Kinch started his process of tracking down known info on the other officer in Burkhalter's office while Carter walked into the tunnel he and Newkirk had left the British Colonel the night before.

Yawning, Carter walked up to Wilson. "How bad is he?" Carter couldn't hold back yet another yawn.

"He's doing fine, just a few lumps on his head, probably still sleeping off a nasty concussion,"

"That guy from the underground, boy, he looked pretty strong, and he said he knocked him out,"

Wilson nodded his head, "So I heard you delivered a baby," The medic raised an eyebrow.

Carter shrugged his good shoulder, his other one felt even worse after he'd woken up, but he wasn't about to complain about it. "It's not a big deal, I sure wish everyone would stop talking about it like it were,"

"It may not seem like a big deal to you Carter, but to everyone else, it kinda is,"

Carter shook his head and another yawn came out. "I'm still way too tired to argue about this. If you don't need anything, I'm going to go do an inventory on my lab," The American sounded as annoyed as he was.

Wilson decided to not take it personally, he'd be more than just a little grouchy if he were in Carter's shoes. "Go ahead Carter, I got this under contro-"

"Uh, Wilson…" Carter's eyes went wide as he looked down at Crittenden who was convulsing on the cot.

Wilson turned and noticed the English Colonel having what looked like a seizure. "Oh shit!"

Once the seizure was over Crittenden came to within minutes.

"Where am I?" He looked around, eyes trying to focus in the dim light.

"Under Stalag 13 Colonel," Wilson answered. "Carter, go get Colo-, uh, go tell Colonel Hogan that our guest is awake, and ask him what he wants to do,"

"You got it!" The younger American took off to go talk to the Colonel.

"Funny thing, I don't remember getting here." Crittenden blinked a few times, his face twisted in confusion.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well, quite frankly, geraniums of all things, wot!" Wilson sat back down, this was going to be a long day.

"Well Colonel, Hochstetter isn't getting transferred, but he's on strict orders from Berlin via that Dinkleman to not come nosing around here unless he proves to his superior first that there is cause for his suspicion." Kinch reported around noon.

"Cor, I'm shocked that they did that much!" Newkirk laughed before taking another drag off of his third cigarette in a row. Yesterday had frazzled his nerves something awful!

"I am shocked you aren't sleeping like Andre," LeBeau nodded at the youngest of their motley crew who was sprawled out in his bunk mouth open slightly as he slept.

Newkirk snorted but before he could snap back a response Colonel Hogan rested a hand on the English Corporal's shoulder and started to speak.

"Get some rest Newkirk, there's nothing more we can accomplish today,"

Kinch nodded his head. "Take your own advice Colonel, you need to get some rest, Wilson's orders."

"Yeah, sure thing," Colonel Hogan responded half heartedly.

"It's a different ballgame now isn't?" Carter asked followed by a yawn as he stretched rolling onto his side to face the other men who were talking. He had just woken up and wasn't sure what was going on, but it had just seemed like the right thing to say.

Colonel Hogan nodded his head. "That's a good way of putting it Carter,"

Carter nodded his head and then rolled back onto his back and was asleep in seconds.

"Blimey that kid is bonkers," Newkirk shook his head unable to keep a smile from his face. He still couldn't get over the fact the kid was now not only proficient in highly dangerous explosives, but extremely fragile babies. Full of contradictions, he was.

"Seriously Newkirk, who knows what London might throw at us tomorrow, so get some rest," Colonel Hogan repeated before heading off to his own sleeping quarters.

Things began to go back to normal, or as normal as things could go in a POW camp where the prisoners were actually heading up the local underground resistance activity. London was sending more missions, Shultz came back from leave, and the Gestapo presence in the area went back to normal levels within a fortnight. Colonel Hogan could get down into the tunnel again about that same time, No one knew who was happier about that development, the men or Hogan himself. Carter was slowly gaining back the function of his left arm, which was a good thing because their explosive stores were starting to run low. People barely trusted him around the volatile substances he worked with having two fully functional hands, so there was no chance anyone let him near them with limited use of one hand.

Crittenden was still down in the tunnels being a menace for a week longer than the Gestapo had been extra present in the area. In the three week span that he was in the tunnels, the Englishman had managed to break the radio twice, collapse the tunnel Johnson kept his still in, scare the living daylights out of just about everyone who used the tunnels, walked in on pictures being developed three times, scared away an underground contact, and tried to start digging an unnecessary tunnel almost every other day.

But everything has an end, and when his reign of terror ended all the men of Stalag 13 breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you till it seems as though you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn." -Harriet Breecher Stowe

~AN~AN~AN~

Ok, so small author's note type thing... It has been great being a part of this wonderful fandom, but just as I thought, oh gee, I'm going to finally have time to focus on writing more, I discovered that I am called to be a nun. You know like, "oh my gosh, people still do that?" habit wearing Catholic nun. So with that comes the interesting part, no more access to the internet for my own purposes. I enter a convent in California in 11 days and 8 hours from now (0300 July 23, 2019). I just wanted to say one final thank you to all of the people who have helped me through the years by encouraging me in my writing and helping me to become a better writer in case I don't have time to work on anything before I leave! A special thank you to Abracadebra, Dust on the wind, Konarciq, Goldleaf83, Sgt. Moffitt, and all the others, especially my high school and college English teachers, you all inspire me to constantly improve! I know I still have a long way to go, and I hope that I never stop trying to improve! Blessings to all of you! -LightShiner14-


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